


The Time-Lord and the Temp - Auld Lang Syne

by TheAllonsyGirl



Series: The Time-Lord And The Temp [4]
Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Costume Parties & Masquerades, F/M, Feels, New Year's Eve, Party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-07 11:55:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3173122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAllonsyGirl/pseuds/TheAllonsyGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor decides to show Donna one of his favourite New Year parties, in the Venetian Rich District. But is everything as it seems?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Time-Lord and the Temp - Auld Lang Syne

"Do we have to do this?" Donna whined, from inside one of the TARDIS' many bedrooms, pulling a comb through her vibrant red tresses. The Doctor rolled his eyes and mumbled;  
"Do you always have to complain?" he was on the opposite side of the hall, so it scared him half to death when she bellowed back at him;

"OI! I can HEAR you, y'know! I flipping hate New Year's Eve," she huffed and put her hands on her hips, internalising her angst, and silently criticising. 

"It's just one night, Donna, it's a fresh start, a new year, a time to change," he tried to sell her on the concept, quite aware how futile that endeavour was; nonetheless he tried. 

"Well maybe I don't want to bloody change. The only thing I want to change, is OUT of this dress," she wriggled uncomfortably in the chiffon ballgown; it made her feel conspicuous, paranoid, and worst of all, like she was going to a school dance. 

"Oh, come on Donna, I'm sure you look lovely," his tone was light, and positive; he heard Donna snarl, and mutter curses under her breath. He had no doubt that those were directed towards him. He'd decided to take her to a New Year's Eve ball that he'd discovered many years ago, in the Venetian south. It was a grandiose masquerade affair, with elegant food, fine champagne and exquisite views from the gargantuan panelled windows, overlooking the great Dolomite mountains and vineyards. 

Donna had not seemed mighty impressed, because she did not see herself as elegant nor refined; the Doctor knew her to be capable of delightful charm and camaraderie; as usual, she'd protested. He'd started to understand, that Donna sometimes merely wanted to disagree with him, whether she believed him to be right or not. 

Donna strolled out of the room, her figure swathed in a deep forest green satin dress. It pooled in ballroom layers at the bottom, and glided immaculately across her ample shape. It had no straps, but it stayed in its perfect place, as she walked. It was detailed with ruching, and simple, delicate sparkling around the bust. It was classy, but not too ornate, just as she'd wanted when she peered through the racks of dresses the TARDIS had afforded her at the blink of an eye. Most likely at the Doctor's request; she saw no other reason for him to possess them. 

Her shoulders were no longer bare as she draped a black, lace bolero across them, the sleeves running down her delicate arms to the wrist. In her right hand she carried a bejeweled and green-feathered mask, mounted onto a silvery stick. Her hair fell in perfect spiral curls, the red, silk strands a perfect compliment to the green of the dress. The Doctor turned as he heard her heels on the metal-grate floor.

"Ah, Donna! Finally! I was starting to thi--," he stopped mid-sentence, his mouth agape, and his eyes wide as he took her in. Donna shuffled nervously and looked around, her cheeks blanching slightly.

"What?" she spoke, slightly flustered. The Doctor shook his head and regained his composure. He twitched a small smile;

"You look...absolutely beautiful," he grinned widely, his teeth showing as he walked across to her.

"Stop it," she dismissed him with a loose hand movement and turned her gaze elsewhere, but inside, relishing the compliment. 

"Come on, we're going to be late for the party," he held out a hand to her, and she took it, hitching her dress slightly with the other, so she could walk properly in her high heels. She hadn't even noticed that the TARDIS was in flight as she had been beautifying herself; the Doctor had become more masterful in his piloting in recent times, it seemed. 

As the Doctor opened the door, Donna's eyes widened as she took in the vast glistening mountains before her. She had to steady herself a little as the sheer height of their position was dizzying. The lake glittered cooly past their feet, and with aid, Donna made her way across the stepping stones. As they skittered up the embankment, a gargantuan building seemed to spring up before them. Donna raised her eyes slowly, taking in the rustic, Italian craftmanship, and the Doctor grinned with admiration. 

"Whoa," was all Donna could choke out, as she drank in the colours and sounds around her. The thin air snaked in and out of her lungs and she felt a little light headed. The Doctor held out his arm for her to link with her own. 

"Are we actually invited to this party? Or are we gate crashing?" she raised a curious eyebrow. The Doctor smirked and slipped a black wallet from his tuxedo pocket, and waved it in front of Donna's nose.

"Course we are," he replied, simply, and strode confidently up to the guarded gates; he wore an easy smile, and Donna attempted to look as though she belonged. The red-coated guardsmen eyed up the Doctor and Donna cautiously, and the Doctor's demeanour grew all the more confident.

"Wait, we are what? Invited? Or gatecrashing?" Donna turned to him and he offered only a wry smile in response. He flipped the psychic paper out in front of him and grinned, before speaking in fluent Italian, to the guards. Donna tipped her head slightly to one side as she observed him.

"Ah signori! Amici io sono il Dottore, e questa é la signora Donna Noble. Noi siamo così lieti per aver ricevuto il vostro invito. Gratzie molte!" he spoke with exuberance, and the men smiled warmly as they took in the psychic paper's leading thoughts. They stepped to one side and pulled open the large mahogany doors, and bowing slightly respect of the Doctor and his Lady. When they were past the threshold, Donna hissed to the Doctor;

"What did you say to them?" her lips pressed to his ear almost, as she spoke. He smirked and turned to indulge her question;

"Oh, I just told them we were so excited to receive their invitation. They think we are Lord Doctor and Lady Donna," his laugh quivered in the air and Donna's mouth fell open, then she laughed, muffling the sound with her hand.

"Oh you are wicked," she giggled, and they continued down the long corridor. They could hear the soft lull of a string quartet, and the busy hum of people chattering excitedly. The Doctor lead them closer to the noise, and as they turned the corner, they spotted the ballroom at the end of the corridor. It was a hive of people, gold and silver balloons, music, and flashes of masks. It was surreal and overwhelming, but inherently fascinating. As they approached the archway, which was lined with golden drapery, a finely-dressed waiter materialised in front of them, and held out a silver platter of champagne flutes.

"Champagne, Doctor? Signora?" he pushed the tray outwards politely, and they both took a flute, sipping gently.  
"I could get used to this," Donna spoke in a hushed tone, and the Doctor chuckled.

"I'll bet you could. Come on, we've only got an hour or so at this party!" he became animated once more, and pulled at Donna's wrist. Donna frowned as she followed him;

"Why only an hour? We just got here!" she objected, trying her best not to trip over the plethora of coloured dress-folds that blurred before her. 

"Look at the time," he pointed up to a grandiose wrought iron clock, that Donna found quite intimidating, not because of its ostentatiousness, but for the more literal reason, that owl figure that stared out from between its folds, made her feel watched. It was almost eleven o'clock, and she frowned again, shaking her head as the words escaped her; 

"You made me put on a dress, for a party, that I am only going to be at for seventy minutes?" she made sure to enunciate every syllable, and use hand gestures as punctuation. He made a point to ignore this, as he knew it was a conversation that could last them hours. He stopped at the buffet table, and picked up a strawberry.

"Eat this! It's amazing!" Donna took the strawberry from him, and took a bite. Her eyes widened a little and she looked down at it;

"There's a flipping cheesecake in this!" she gasped and licked her lips. The Doctor nodded and stuffed one in his mouth, before perusing the other available eateries. Donna looked down at a place that was to her right, and reached out to take something from it.  
"Uh, I wouldn't eat that if I were you," the Doctor eyed up the plate she was inches from. Donna was about to ask why not, but she didn't need to; one by one, the round, green items grew fluff, and began to run around the plate, squeaking. Donna squealed and stepped back from the table. The Doctor tried to mask his laughter. 

"What the flipping heck are they?" she squawked and flapped her hands towards the plate.

"Truth-telling gooseberries," he replied, letting one jump onto his hand.  
"People eat those?" she looked horrified at the thought of eating them. She actually thought they were rather cute.

"Oh no! Course not! That would be barbaric! You put them in your hand, and if you're lying, they chirrup and squeak. They feed off the lies people tell," he examined it carefully, and it looked up at him. 

"Right. Okay...and what are they doing on a plate?" she looked at him, bemused. 

"They use them for entertainment, make a big show of it, trying to find out people's secrets. I never saw the appeal myself, I just think they're cute. I suppose they're rather like a centrepiece," he poked at one lightly. Donna blinked, and shook her head, as she wandered away from the table, and into the crowd; she put her mask up to her face, as she did so, and the Doctor carried on poking around. 

Donna felt the gaze of several men upon her, as she walked through the ballroom, some asked her to dance, others merely gazed at her. She politely declined them all, and tried fervently to hide behind her mask. She came across a large, terracotta pot, lined with compost and mixed soils, and inside it, was a rather large plant. It had an oval, pod-like head, and several spines. She tipped her head to one side curiously, and got a little closer to look at its leafy growths. 

"Donna, don't go near that," the Doctor exclaimed, as she put her face near to the large, green plant. It stirred, and the Doctor pulled her away from it, just as it lashed out, in a chomping motion.  
"What the flipping heck is THAT?!" she hollered, throwing a voulevant at it.  
"Venus Face Trap," the Doctor added simply.  
"A what?"  
"They like faces," he replied, a mouth full of banana split.  
Donna glowered at him;  
"What kind of hell-party IS this?!" she threw another voulevant, this time at the Doctor.  
"An interesting one?" he attempted to joke, catching the pastry in his hand. "I thought you hated pastry, anyway?" he mused as he turned the voulevant round in his fingers.  
"Look up INTERESTING, and tell me what it says. And I do, that's why I threw it at you; I forgot what voulevants actually were," she folded her arms and narrowed her eyes a little sheepishly.  
"I don't need to; the answer is this party," he smiled smugly and sauntered over to the bar. Donna rolled her eyes again and turned back to the plant;  
"You can have his face if you like," she grumbled to it, and when she turned back, she noticed he had a phone pressed to his ear. She slowly made her way around the many guests, who were embraced in dance, weaving and sliding through their bustles and jackets. She slid behind the doorway, just as he walked through and she stayed hidden as she listened;  
"...I know, and I don't want to leave her at home either, but I can't take her; not this time. It's too dangerous Jack, you know that. I need you to come here and take her home. I don't have time to explain all of this to her, and you know what will happen; she'll shout and shout and shout. It's only for a little while; as soon as it's all dealt with, I'll come back for her. You have my word..." the speech drowned out as she turned away from the door. She looked up to the clock once again; almost midnight. She felt like some modern-day Cinderella at the ball; about to lose her her glass slipper, coach, and her Prince Charming, of sorts. As he walked through the archway, she grabbed his arm;

"So this was just a ruse, was it?" she snapped, her eyes alight with fire.

"Ah. Donna, you...how much of that did you--" he wittered mindlessly.

"Enough," she spoke coldly, and it chilled the Doctor, and he knew that he was potentially making a big mistake, but he had no choice. 

"It's not like that; I can't explain it to you right now, but I will, I promise you that, Donna, I need you to trust me," he implored, his hands upon hers in a pleading way.

"That's just it Doctor; I did," she turned her face away, her cheeks blanching with the emotion of his sudden revelations.

"You can, and you should. Please Donna, how long have you known me? You know you can trust me, and you know I'll always come back for you," he half smiled, remembering their first reuniting at Adipose Industries. As he chased the fond memory away, the ten-second count down to the new year began to ring out, as a chorus, echoing and prevalent;

10..."You always do this! How long is it going to be this time?" she slapped his arm and he drew back a little.

9..."I'm sorry Donna, I was going to tell you after the party," he tried to appease her furious temper.

8..."What am I supposed to do now?" she raged, her mask falling to the floor as she let it slip.

7..."It's just for a little while, not long, I promise; Jack is on his way; he's going to take you home," he held his hands up in sincerity, his voice soft. 

6..."How long's a little while? 'Not long' to you is a hundred years! Who's to say you'll even come back for me?" her annoyance was rapidly becoming hurt.

5..."A month, maybe two. I just need to do some things, that I can't do if you're with me," he spoke softly.

4..."Like what? After all we've been through! This is what you want to do? Take me home, and let me go back there? Don't take me back," her voice was almost child-like.

3..."I have to do this. I'll come back. I promise you, I will come back for you, Donna Noble," he touched her cheek gently, and she batted his hand away, as hot tears began to slip down her cheeks.

2..."So this is it then?" she rasped, her voice whispery and wobbling with plaintive emotion. "Don't you dare start this new year with me, if you can't finish it," she choked out. He gave her one last longing look, and disappeared into the crowd of people, biting his lip as he walked, purposefully. 

1..."DOCTOR! Just...don't!" she cried, a few turned to look at her; some with pity, others with disdain. There were no more numbers, no more seconds, only the ugly truth; it was a new year, and he had walked away. Not forever he had said, Jack is on his way he said. She knew he would come back, but she knew she didn't want to find out how long it would be. The Doctor opened the door to the TARDIS, and stepped inside. With one last longing look, he closed the door, and the blue box began to fade. Donna heard the noise of the TARDIS, and she closed her eyes. 

"Happy New Year," they whispered in unison.


End file.
